


Relief From My Suffering

by TheDevilsDuchess



Series: My Comment Fics [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cutting, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide, Warning now there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDevilsDuchess/pseuds/TheDevilsDuchess
Summary: Stiles cut to stave off the guilt until Derek came into his life then suddenly he didn't need the razor anymore. But will Derek be the answer or will he drive Stiles further into his pain?





	Relief From My Suffering

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my old fics I wrote for a gifset on tumblr. I'm currently editing and transferring all my works from Fanfiction.Net to AO3.
> 
> Click on the link to see the beautiful gifset this was based off and show support for the creator:

[[Reblog Link]](http://spidypool.tumblr.com/post/47406917325/currerelupusbellatorcurrere-derek-was-forced-by)

 

 

It started shortly after his Mom got sick.  He thought if he punished himself enough that maybe just maybe she would get better.  That was the first time he ever took a razor to his skin.

After she died he still cut but the reason changed.  Now he cut himself to feel something.  To push the numbness back that came along with her death.

Over the years he became an expert.  His tools kept sterile, his technique perfected.  He spends almost four hours afterwards bandaging the cuts making sure their unnoticeable.  Truth is he doesn’t care if they get infected, that would cause pain and give the cut a lasting effect but he knows if that happens he’ll have to see a doctor and then everyone will know.

The funny or sad thing is, depending on how you look at it, no one has noticed.  Not his Dad or Scott who he spends almost every waking moment with, not coach or his teammates.  No one.

He doesn’t cut often just when things get to hard, the grief too much.  But then everything changes and Scott is bitten by a werewolf and it’s _his_ fault.  It doesn’t matter how he spins it he’s the one who dragged Scott out, it’s his fault.  The cut he inflicts on himself is long and deep placed on his inner thigh.

After that the cutting gets more frequent as he punishes himself for all the mistakes he makes.  Failing to keep Scott locked up on the full moon, sending Derek to jail, not saying anything when Scott blamed Derek, not protecting Lydia, not saving the mechanic from the kanima, being so stupid with the text message causing Jackson’s parents to get suspicious, the deaths at the station (he gave himself one cut for each death their lined side-by-side), getting captured by Genard, the list goes on.

But then, then he stops, he doesn’t need to, and he knows why, Derek.  He saved him and then he did it again and again.  That first time Derek looked at him giving him a single nod in thanks, he was riding that high for _weeks_ afterwards.  Derek insults him regularly but it’s not meant to be hurtful, it’s teasing and friendly.  Sure they fight and often but the feeling is better than he has ever gotten cutting.  When they finally kiss Stiles packs away his tools tucking them into the far corner of his closet.  He’ll never get rid of them but maybe just maybe he’ll never need them again.

Having a boyfriend, an incredibly hot boyfriend, created issues that Stiles never had to deal with before, never even considered.  He has scars dozens of them under his clothes.  He wants to have sex with Derek.  He wants to so badly but how would he explain that to him?  So he keeps everything above clothing trying to by time.  And it works for the most part.  Derek can understand and he doesn’t want to push it.  Besides he’s not eighteen yet.  He’s still underage only his birthday is coming up fast.

When it comes and goes and they still haven’t done it anxiety pumps through his veins.  He wants to cut for the first time in over a year but he doesn’t.  That’s what got him into this situation in the first place.  But the itch is there.  It’s always there.  In the back of his mind.

It’s the day Stiles finally decides to tell him everything.  He hopes Derek will understand.  Actually he’s pretty sure he will.  Derek’s the only one to ever understand him.  The reason why he’s held off this long is his own fear not Derek’s reaction.  So he goes to find him nervous but strangely relieved.  There will be no more secrets between them.

He turns a corner and stops dead in his tracks.  His heart breaking into a million pieces that he’ll never be able to pick up again.  There standing in the center of the room is Derek lip locked with Erica.  He can’t _breathe_.

Stiles backs away before running as far away as possible.  Sobs bubbled up that he tried to push down.  He had to _get out_.  He had to get away.  He had to go home.

He’s not even sure how he managed to drive home without crashing but he does and he’s in the house up the stairs before he could even really think about it.  He tosses everything out of the closet.  _Why did he have to bury it so far back?_  Finally _finally_ finding his tools.  He collapses onto the bathroom floor dumping them out carelessly.  He rips off his shirt taking the blade to his skin.  This is all _his_ fault.  If he hadn’t waited, if he had just told him then Derek wouldn’t of felt the need to go to Erica.

Everything is always his fault.  Because he’s reckless, careless, and he deserves this.

Tears pour down his cheeks in a way they haven’t since his mother died and he digs the blade deep into his arm.  He _wants_ his arm to scar.  He wants a hideous scar to remind him of this pain.  He knows he shouldn’t cut when he’s this upset, when his hand is shaking and he’s barely able to control it but he doesn’t _care_.

He knows he screwed up when the blood comes out too fast, when it pours out of his body onto the white tile floor.  He can feel the blood losses effects as a blackness creeps up at the edges of his eyes.  There’s still time.  He can call 911, he can get help.  But why?  He has nothing left anymore.  He knows he’ll hurt his Dad but it doesn’t stop him.  Derek was all he held onto.  The only person keeping him together.  Instead he drags the razor a little bit further making the cut a little bit wider before he can’t grip the blade anymore and it drops from his fingers.

 

Derek shoves Erica off him.  “What the hell?!” he growls angrier than he can ever remember dragging the back of his hand over his lips.  This was not the first time he’d been lip locked with his female wolf but things were different now.  “You can’t pull shit like that anymore!  I’m with Stiles!  You know that!”

Erica instinctively takes a step back curling in on herself.  “I-I…”

“Don’t!  I understand the urge to offer yourself to your Alpha is strong but control yourself!”  His eyes were red and he could feel his claws itching to come out.  “If you ever do that again…”  It takes everything in his power not to hurt Erica instead storming from the room.

He whirled around storming out of the room only to stop abruptly in the doorway.  He inhaled the familiar scent.  _Stiles_.  Stiles had been here less than a minute ago.  He could smell the hurt, the pain, Derek’s stomach dropped.  God no.

He ran.  He had to find Stiles.  He had to explain.

 

He tried the door first no answer.  He went to the window. It hadn’t been locked since they started dating and it wasn’t now.  Derek was inside Stiles’ room in a heartbeat.  There where clothes thrown everywhere.  The room looked trashed like someone had broken in.  Like they were searching for something.  That’s when it hit him, the scent of blood.  It _reeked_.  His stomach dropped as he realized it was Stiles’ blood.

“Stiles!” he shouted searching the house frantically, desperately.  He found him on the bathroom floor.  There was so much blood coating the floor and the scent it almost knocked him over.  “Stiles!”  Derek fell into the blood.  He wrapped his arms around the younger man cradling him in his arms.  He grabbed the nearest towel tightening it securely around his arm.  He took out his cell dialing 911 before tucking it to his ear.  “I need an ambulance.”  His eyes fell on the razors knocked all over the tiles.  “Stiles he-he’s tried to kill himself.  There’s so much blood.  Please you have to hurry.”  He managed to spit out the address before tossing the phone aside.

He had never seen Stiles shirtless before but now, now he can see the scars littering his abs, his arms, his pelvis, Derek felt like he was going to be sick.  How had no one had noticed?  How had _he_ not noticed?  Derek wrapped his arms more securely around Stiles tucking him under his chin.

That’s when he realized he couldn’t hear a heartbeat.  “Stiles.”  Derek glanced down at him.  “Stiles wake up.”  He shook him lightly only to cause his head to loll back.  “Stiles come on you have to wake up.  Open your eyes.  Look at me.  _Please_ ,” he begged.  But he knew he wasn’t going to.  No matter how much he begged and pleaded Stiles wasn’t ever going to wake up again.  “Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.”  He rocked him back and forth his visions blurred by tears.  “I _love_ you.”


End file.
